Experiences

Experiences, that make the eyes moist

Will one day dry, but the mind will foist

Those textures upon us, some make us cry

The mind’s way of making awareness less spry

We marvel at the rare and chaff at the common

Some are turned into a lofty sermon

Experiences, they are not perennial

Nature’s design, to keep us bound to the terrestrial

Experiences, sachets that once held pure gold

Gaining in value when buffed and resold

It’s time to end the mind’s chicanery

True eyes reveal the mind’s ways as vagary

When the experiencer decides to quit

And let the partnership with the mind slip

There may be none to cry for and laugh with

It’s all right, experience of separation is just a myth